


Someone, Somewhere

by Avirra



Series: Man from U.N.C.L.E. - Song Fic [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Song : The Girl I Knew Somewhere (written by Michael Nesmith)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya wakes in a hospital, disoriented but with his fiance at his side. How can things look so right yet feel so wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone, Somewhere

Illya's chest felt far too tight and his head pounded worse than any hangover he had ever lived through as he slowly opened his eyes. The soft voice coming from beside him was oddly familiar, yet strange.

"That's right, darling. Open your eyes for me. You gave me quite the scare. I thought I was going to be a widow before I was a bride."

Even with his vision still slightly blurry from the pain, Illya could see that the woman he was looking at was uncommonly beautiful. The smell of her perfume was one he recognized. The touch of her hand was one he'd felt before. She was his fiancé? Surely he should regard himself as a lucky man, but - something was wrong. Despite that underlying feeling, he gave her a small smile. He had a further sinking feeling when that simple action seemed to take so much energy.

"Is this . . ."

He paused. His voice was so weak and harsh, he couldn't recognize it as his. Swallowing to try to wet his dry throat, he tried again.

"Is this a hospital?"

"My poor darling. They warned me that the accident might have affected your memory. The doctor told me that when you woke, I should ask you what day it is."

"I do not know what day it now, but last I recall, it was Thursday."

"Oh, I meant the date, darling. Tell me the month, day and year that it was on Thursday."

"May eleventh, 1967."

The woman pushed back a strand of platinum blonde hair and seemed genuinely distressed. Even so, he found himself disbelieving every word that she said. There were memories attached to this woman's voice - this woman's touch. Those memories were only wispy ghosts in his mind, but insubstantial as they were, not a one evoked a pleasant feeling.

"Oh no. This is worse than the doctor expected. This is April ninth, 1968. You've forgotten nearly an entire year. Don't fret, darling. Your Josette will nurse you through this."

"You say we are to be wed?"

"Yes. Very soon, in fact. June the first. I insisted that I wanted to be a June bride like my mother was and you insisted that if you had to wait until June that you wouldn't wait more than for the first of June."

"I do not suppose I have ever been known for my patience."

"We'll have you better before our wedding day, just you wait and see, darling."

Closing his eyes and sinking back into his pillow, Illya fought back a frown. His memory could only pull up one person that called him darling - but then, April called everyone darling. But this Josette? There was still not one thing that he could point out as wrong, but every instinct he had was screaming that she was very wrong somehow. That believing her was dangerous. He was pulled from his thoughts by her fingers ghosting along his cheek.

"You do believe me, don't you, darling?"

Something warned him that telling her the truth would be bad, so he managed a small smile and lied.

"Of course I do."

Just a minute or two later, a man in a white lab coat came in, shaking his head.

"It isn't working. On some level, he's still fighting the conditioning."

The expression on Josette face changed from angelic to demonic as she cast a baleful look in Illya's direction. It was easy enough to see now what his guts had been trying to warn him about.

"What happened to your promises, doctor? Six times now - six times! - and still he fights it? Start over again and this time I want results!"

The doctor swallowed hard.

"Another round of the drugs so soon after the last might cause permanent damage. It could even kill him."

Her voice was frosty even by Illya's arctic standards. "Do I look as if I care what the consequences to him might be? If he dies, I will simply change my plans."

By her tone, his death would be inconvenient, but more on the level of spilling something on a dress and having to change what she planned to wear.

"I will be back in five hours. I expect you to have finished by then."

The woman and the doctor both left the room. Getting out of the room would have been a good idea, but whatever drugs were already in his system made even lifting his head a gargantuan task. Still, he didn't give up trying.

As he came back in with a tray of equipment, the doctor apparently noticed him straining to make his body obey. Chuckling, he just shook his head as he came beside the bed and began filling a hypodermic needle with a sickly greenish-gray fluid.

"You aren't going anywhere, Mister Kuryakin. Ever. Just settle down and the experience will be far less painful for you."

"Actually, for your continued health, I would advise you to step back from my partner. You start that needle anywhere near him and I won't hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes."

Whether the doctor knew Napoleon's reputation or whether the deadly calm tone of Napoleon's voice did the trick, the doctor quickly stepped away from the bed.

"Illya? You've been missing for days, chum. What have they done to you?"

"I am not sure, but I am weak enough that I would not challenge Lawan to a wrestling match."

"Lucky for you, she hates wrestling. Even luckier, I brought backup. Mark! April! Come lend a hand."

April took a minute to secure the doctor far away from the phone or any other equipment he might make use of while Napoleon continued to insure the doctor's cooperation with his gun. Mark rooted around until he found Illya's clothing, gun and other equipment, then worked on getting the clothes onto Illya. With Illya unable to help, it wasn't a simple task.

Once the doctor was out of their way, Napoleon found some water and helped Illya drink some. After that, it was far easier for him to talk and Illya answered what questions he could. His memory was too fogged with the drugs to give too many details though.

"Not that I'm not thrilled that their scheme didn't work on you, Illya, but I wonder why it didn't?"

Mark looked over to Napoleon from where he was still supporting Illya.

"Knowing the pair of you? I could venture the guess that during the first attempt, she did or said something that gave her away and that distrust got stuck in Illya's subconscious so that no matter how well she played the role afterward, part of him already knew better and refused to buy into it."

"Remind me not to knock your suspicious little brain in the future, chum."

"You may count on that."


End file.
